Finding The Heart
by wavingthroughawindow
Summary: ON HIATUS [AU. Where Feyre is the runaway bride of an Emperor, and Rhys is the mysterious (and super-hot) stranger, with a few secrets of his own up his sleeve. Minor spoilers for ACOWAR, mild language. My first fanfic, please review!]
1. Chapter 1

The small and quiet village was abuzz with gossip.

"Did you hear?"

"Lady Feyre!"

"She's only been married to Emperor Tamlin for three months"

"But now she's -"

"Run away!"

"Why would she possibly do this?"

"Where could she be?"

"Did they get a divorce?"

"Was there a guy?"

"Oh my goodness, was she having an _affair?_ "

"The horror!"

"That woman must be brought to justice."

This echoed throughout the village.

"Justice," they toasted at dinner that evening.

"Justice," the mayor of the village would announce.

"Justice," the governor of the province would secretly say, outside his political life.

And so the hatred for Lady Feyre spread throughout the kingdom of Chlorida. Farmers, merchants, and businessmen, who had never laid eyes on her or spoken with her, loathed her with a passion.

As _The Chlorida Daily_ put it: "We don't know who you are, where you're from, or why you're doing this. But we do know that you're hurting our emperor. Mark my words, Lady Feyre Archeron, we will find you. We the people will not let this rest. We will find you…"

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Hey y'all! Thanks for taking the time to read this! This is my first fanfic ever, so please review!

Since my first two chapters were all exposition, I posted them together. More plot coming soon!


	2. Chapter 2

Feyre was lost, in more ways than one.

She had been on the run for three days now. She had no clue where she was going or why she was going there.

And she didn't know what she was running from.

It all had began one beautiful summer day. One normal summer day, where Feyre had, as always, been going to market to buy provisions for her family. She remembered walking away from the stand, carrying a large back of food, exhausted. Too tired to think. And then seeing him.

They talked. And over the days, talking turned to flirting, which in turn became love. She had loved him. She remembered that part.

And then he told her. Told her that he was, in fact, the emperor of Chlorida. And told her that if she were to wed him, there would be tests. Tests of character.

Stubbornly, Feyre had insisted on doing the tests. I can do them, no problem, she told him. I've always had to provide for my family of four. What's a few tests to me?

The next two weeks… she shuddered. Her insides writhed violently. No. She'd best not think about that.

In the end, she did pass the tests. But not without paying for it heavily. She would forever carry the burden of her sins.

And he, Emperor Tamlin, just didn't understand. How could she be feeling troubled? As long as the two of them were together, how could she be feeling unhappy?

Feyre had loved him, yes. But that love, that passion slowly faded away, until it was little more than a dream. And as their marriage progressed, she started to feel trapped.

She didn't know why or how. After all, she was married to the Emperor. She had every luxury she ever wished for at her disposal. And yet, she wanted none of it.

Finally, she couldn't take it anymore. The atmosphere was stifling, and she was slowly but surely suffocating. So she decided to escape. It would only be for a day or two. She would come back once she figured her mess of feelings out.

But within 24 hours of her disappearance, Chlorida condemned her. Scandal, they shouted. Public disgrace. We will find you, and bring you justice.

Seeing no other options, she ran.

Feyre unfolded her map and looked at it. She wanted to go somewhere as far away as possible. Somewhere where they would never have heard of her, or Emperor Tamlin, or Chief Adviser Lucien, or Chlorida, really. Somewhere where she could start new.

She looked to Chlorida, then cast her eyes as far away from that point as possible. Her gaze landed on a small province: "Republic of Asteria."

"Republic," she thought. "Interesting…"

What might a republic be like? Would it be more chaotic? Something told her not. Would it be open? Would everyone's concerns and feelings valued? Most importantly, would she feel _free_ there?

Feyre didn't know. But she had to find out.


	3. Chapter 3

_All characters in this story belong to Sarah J. Maas. The song mentioned is called "Home" from Beauty and the Beast. I thought it was really fitting to Feyre's situation, especially since ACOTAR/ACOMAF are Beauty and the Beast._

Upon arrival, Feyre gasped.

Gone were the villages divided by class, gone was the stifling social hierarchy. Here was a city in which everything was connected.

Hole-in-the-wall pubs and high class malls could be found within six feet of each other. People bustled from one to the other. Clothes showed no social class or contemption. Old friends greeted each other, strangers laughed together over a joke, and people smiled. As if they had a reason to be happy.

As she stood atop a bench, Feyre saw trains and highways stretching endlessly from city to city to city. A steady flow of cars inhabited those highways. She smiled.

"If this is what a republic is like, I'm ready to stay forever," she said.

She gazed at the night sky. Thousands and thousands of stars shined bright, like little jewels. Amidst it all, the moon stood out like a single pearl glowing, glowing with a healthy vigor.

Feyre picked up her stuff, a single satchel, and rode the train to the heart of Asteria. Here was the heart of the republic, and it was here that she would stay until her mess of feelings resolved itself.

If it resolved itself.

With this thought, she remembered why she was here, and it began to drown her. She knew what was coming, her feelings had been drowning her for a while now. But that didn't stop her from putting her face in her hands and hugging her knees to her chest as she began to cry, worry, condemn.

"Oh god," she thought. "What if I didn't do the right thing? What if I should have stayed with Tamlin?"

Worse yet, what if he was right about everything? What if she was completely unjustified in her unhappiness?

And yet, she knew that what she had done during those trials was unforgivable.. She deserved Hell, she deserved worse than Hell. She was horrible, wretched…

"Station D, Heart of Asteria, get off now." Cursing at herself for making a spectacle, Feyre snapped her head up. Not one pair of eyes were staring. Good. She clutched her satchel and stepped off the train.

"Mind the gap between the door and the station. I repeat, mind the gap." Despite everything, Feyre couldn't help but let out a small laugh at this. She stepped off the train, walked out the train station, and looked around.

A world of culture and refinement greeted her once more. She looked around, and allowed herself to smile. She would stay here as long as… as long as her broken heart, no, her broken self, needed. To heal.

She started looking for a place to stay. To her left was a library… no, she mustn't think about libraries. Libraries were just another piece of evidence that she was worthless, that she should go rot in Hell…

To her right was a bakery. Feyre put a hand to her head. God, she was starving! Just the sight of food was enough to make her realize how hungry she was. She walked inside.

As she bought some fresh bread, Feyre saw couples and groups of friends gathered around tables, laughing, joking, having fun. Her heart twisted as she thought of her family, whom she had always taken care of. Now that she was no one, with little money, miles away from home, what would become of them?

Her poor father, who hadn't been able to cope with the loss of her mother, who gave up. Her sweet sister Elain, who was not ready to face the world. She was too innocent, too naive. And her sister Nesta. On the outside, she appeared icy. But Feyre had an inkling that there was more to Nesta than she would ever know.

As her mother had lain on her deathbed, Feyre had promised her that she would take care of the family. But now… she had failed. Cursing, she vowed to set things right with her family some day. She bit into the bread ferociously, as if to prove a point, then paused as she let the taste of perfectly baked bread wash over her. While she was here in Asteria, running away, lost, useless, she might as well enjoy it.

Leaving the bakery, Feyre continued walking aimlessly about the heart of Asteria. The city never ceased to amaze her. Beautiful green meadows dotted with color, stunning fountains that just _dazzled_ , tall, formidable towers standing over quiet, homely cottages, and a vast, mighty snowcapped mountain range setting the backdrop. The place truly felt like paradise.

But how could she be happy in paradise? How could she be happy anywhere, really, after what she had done, and what had happened? She didn't know, but she was here to find out. She was here to find her heart again.

"Cobbler… pub… school… inn. Jackpot," she thought, walking into the inn, praying for a vacancy.

The receptionist was kind and welcoming. "Good evening! Are you looking for a room, or visiting?"

"Looking for a room," she replied.

"How many nights?"

After thinking for a moment or two, Feyre replied, "Indefinitely."

"Hmm… well… I'm sure we can accommodate that," she said, rummaging through a file cabinet. She eventually extracted a small, shiny object.

"Here you go, room number 5, third door on the right, enjoy your stay!" She nodded to Feyre.

Feyre turned to leave, then paused. On impulse, she turned back.

"Wait, I have a question," she said.

"I'd be happy to help," came her answer.

"What should someone like me _do_ in a place like this?"

"Hmm. I'm not sure what would interest you, but here are a few tourist attractions for a start. In the middle of the city, there's a spectacular fountain. Tourists love it. There are libraries, museums, musical concerts, plays…"

"Anything else?" she prompted.

"Not that I can think of… oh! In two days, the president is giving a speech, you can go see that?"

She shrugged. "Thanks for your help," she said, and walked down the hallway. Third door on the right. She turned the key and entered.

The room was… small. Humble and small. Good. Just the way she liked it. No need to get too comfortable. She collapsed onto the bed, then pushed herself up. God, she really needed to take a shower. She proceeded to act accordingly.

As she showered, the warm water began to clear her head out. Enough so that she began to sing.

" _What I'd give, to return, to the life that I knew lately! But I know, that I can't solve my problems going back! Is this home? Am I here for a day, or forever? Shut away, from the world until who knows when? Oh, but then, as my life has been altered once, it can change again…"_

She trailed off. What would she do tomorrow? The fountain sounded nice. Relaxing. Libraries, museums, no… she couldn't. A concert or a play? Maybe, but she'd never been into those. So that was settled. She would go to the fountain tomorrow.

Feyre climbed out of the shower, dressed again, and started to climb into bed. She was about to settle down and go to sleep when a thought struck her.

The president's speech. Would it be too _learned_ for someone like her? Would she come back feeling more useless than ever?

But on the other hand, maybe she would get to learn what made a republic so free in nature.

On this note, Feyre began to drift to sleep. Rest… she needed rest…

 _Hi everyone! Hope you're enjoying the story!_

 _So this chapter is really more of a bridge chapter, so there's not much to it, except Feyre's own internal conflicts. I promise, the next one will have some Feyrhys in it._

 _Disclaimer: I have no idea whether Feyre sings or not, it just seemed to me like something she would do at the moment. Y'all are entitled to your own opinion._

 _Enjoy!_


	4. Chapter 4

President Rhysand was running out of options.

He had been pushing his luck as it was. A man of his stature and political importance, a man who had been elected to govern his country for life, should have been taken years ago. But a couple weeks into his presidency he proved that he was not the man of every girl's dreams.

As a politician, he was smooth, measured, and well-spoken. As a person, though… Rhysand had looks on his side. But though he did enjoy the company of others, and did have natural charm, he had a habit of shutting everyone out of his life, save a select few. He was quiet,brooding, dark, different. In a rare moment of seriousness, Mor had mentioned that he was years ahead of his time. He wasn't so sure about that, but he knew he was different.

So he had been able to last this long. But his time was running out. Sooner or later, he would _have_ to marry one of his many suitors. The girls might initially have been underwhelmed with his presence, but they were coming to a point where they just did not care. So much so that the steady stream of suitors was becoming a big distraction.

Rhys knew the easiest way out was to just _choose_ one of the many girls, and deal with her for the rest of his life. But there was something more. As a child, Rhys had always loved stories. Stories where the prince, or the orphan, or the hero, found their one true love and lived happily ever after. At the time, he hadn't fully understood what it meant to have one true love. He hadn't understood love at all, really.

But now he was starting to understand how those heroes felt. He wanted passion, he wanted romance. He wanted to find his love; the soul that matched his. He knew she was out there. He could feel her.

Rhysand was desperate. He couldn't wait to marry any longer. He needed her _now,_ or he might lose her forever.

He read his clock. Around 1 am. He grimaced. He really had gotten no sleep, and probably wouldn't for the rest of the night, too.

Rhys needed to clear his head, to be alone for some time, and just breathe in the air. He looked out his window. The city was asleep. Perfect. The Heart of Asteria fountain looked most spectacular in the night, when no one else was there.

He climbed out of bed, got dressed, and headed outside to take a walk.

* * *

Feyre awoke with a start, sweating.

 _horrible wretched useless forever damned_

"It was only just a dream," she tried.

 _you idiot that dream was reality once you complete moron_

 _cursed worthless nothing who should be confined to hell forever_

No. It was not working. Like she had done so many nights, she ran to the bathroom and vomited.

 _good feyre good you deserve to suffer like this_

She vomited and vomited, feeling nothing but pure guilt. Tamlin had always slept through this. She wondered how. If he had really loved her, wouldn't he have been attentive to her needs?

 _no of course not you wretched human being you…_

She stopped her train of thought. Her anger with herself and her anger with Tamlin were two different things. Best keep them separate.

God, she really needed air. She needed to take a walk, right now, while the rest of the city was asleep. Maybe she'd go visit that fountain.

She wiped her mouth, drank some water, got dressed, and headed out.

* * *

That lady had been right. The fountain really was spectacular. Feyre closed her eyes and imagined herself riding the water. She smiled. It was beautiful.

And oh, the stars! The night was a cloudless one, so the stars sparkled and glittered and shined with all they had. The stars in Chlorida hadn't been like this, even on a cloudless night. The night sky in Asteria was truly magical.

She looked around and found a bench. She sat into it and sighed. Tonight she was just going to watch the fountain and the stars.

A cool breeze swept her hair, and she turned to see what it was. Nothing. She turned the other way to fix her hair, and glanced at the bench.

To her surprise, there was someone there, sitting next to her.

* * *

Rhys weaved his way through the city, taking his favorite route to the fountain. Bakery… blacksmith… library… tailor… apothecary… there it was! The fountain shone bright tonight, just like every night since his childhood. He smiled as he remembered those memories. Every night he had felt off, or down, he had made his way here. And he always felt better.

After taking in the beauty of the fountain, he looked around for his favorite bench to sit. Once he located it, he gasped.

A young lady was also sitting there. She sat tall and confident, yet relaxed and sure. She twirled her luscious chocolate brown hair around with her finger, as if she hadn't a care in the world. And her eyes. As Rhys saw her eyes more closely, he could see a familiar expression in them. This was how he had looked as he had sat, so many nights, just trying to shake off his worries and put perspective into them. He hadn't realized what a _beautiful_ expression it was. Although maybe it was only beautiful on her. Because she _was_ beautiful.

Rhys hesitated for a moment, then started walking towards the bench. Who was this girl, and why was she here? He needed to know. Besides, even if they didn't have a conversation, he could share his bench with someone else.

He sat down. He turned his gaze to the fountain, but kept an eye on the girl. After a few minutes, she looked straight at him.

* * *

Feyre started. Who was this person? He sure looked gorgeous, with his perfectly groomed blue-black hair and violet eyes. After a few seconds, he tentatively turned in her direction as well.

They both just stared at each other awkwardly for a few seconds. Then he broke the silence.

"What might bring a beautiful young lady like you outside at such an unbecoming hour?" he said.

Feyre was taken aback by his charm, his sensuality, his _cheek._ Who was he, to talk to her like this?

"First of all, let's get this straight. I am not a _beautiful young lady_ ," she said. "And second of all, that is none of your business. I don't plan on telling _you_ , for sure."

Now it was his turn to look taken aback. "Whoa, darling, you sure have spunk. I was just curious, is all," he said. She smiled wickedly.

"Why do you care?" she asked.

"Seriously, darling, have you ever heard of small talk?" he replied.

She rolled her eyes. "DO NOT call me darling," she said. Angrily, she tore her gaze away from him and proceeded to glare at the fountain.

God, he was obnoxious.

* * *

Rhysand was in awe. Not only was this girl gorgeous, but she had passion. True passion. Her eyes… they were the eyes of a girl who had seen too much, who had been through too much. But she still held her head high and didn't get kicked around by others. Something about him was attracted to her, though he didn't know _how_. He wondered what she had gone through. He wondered who she was, really. He needed to know.

"Okay, Rhys, let's try this again," he thought. "If you want to know, let go of your pride."

He turned and looked straight at Feyre, ignoring the fact that she was pointedly looking away.

"Let's start over," he said, holding out a hand. "I'm Rhysand. You can call me Rhys." He let out a breath internally.

She turned towards him. Great. One win.

She narrowed her eyes. "I'm Feyre," she said suspiciously. Feyre. He liked it.

"Feyre," he tried. "A beautiful name for a princess like you.."

Her eyes flamed up and he started. "Let's get this straight," she spat out. "I. Am. Not. A. Princess. You hear?"

"Whoa! I'm _sorry_!" he said. Had he hit a nerve there?

He must have looked genuinely contrite, because a moment later, she said, "My sister Elain is a real princess."

Was this her idea of small talk? Had he reached her? He would take it. "Sounds like someone I'd like to meet," he said. And there, it was. The faintest glimmer of a smile.

* * *

Feyre was feeling more than slightly overwhelmed.

On the one hand, he was so ridiculously arrogant and cocky. She hated him, hated his guts, hated everything about him. But… after feeling trapped for so long, after running for so long, after being lost for so long, talking to someone was nice. Maybe she would keep talking, for just a bit more.

"Yeah, people can't help but like Elain," she replied to him. "My sister Nesta, now she's a different story," she smiled.

"How so?" he asked. He looked genuinely curious.

"Well, if you ever meet Nesta, which you never will," she laid emphasis on this part, "your first impression would be that she is cruel and heartless and cares for no one." Seeing the expression of bewilderment on his face, she continued. "But I'm not sure. Nesta has always puzzled me, and I don't think I will ever fully understand her. But there's definitely more to her than meets the eye."

"Wow," he looked impressed. "You've told me about your sisters, but what about you, darling?"

She glared at him. He had some nerve! She said slowly and clearly, "As I mentioned before, I am nobody's _darling._ And I don't like talking about myself, so leave it, okay? I'm not about to explain my _inner workings_ to a stranger, that's for certain. And especially not an obnoxious one like you."

He didn't seem too offended. "Okay, okay, calm down, I won't ask again," he said. "Boy, you sure are strong for all your innocent looks," he added.

She was mildly surprised. "Do I really look innocent?" she asked.

He pondered this. "Not _innocent_ , per se, but you…" He trailed off.

Now she was really curious. "Go on," she urged.

"You wouldn't like it," he said definitively, trying to end the conversation, but she shook her head.

"I won't bite," she said, for the purpose of continuing the conversation.

He started again, looking slightly embarrassed. "You don't look innocent, but you look somewhat… haunted. You look like you've gone through burdens you weren't ready for."

Whoa. Pretty deep. And pretty accurate. Too accurate for comfort, really. Carefully avoiding his main points, she said, "And why exactly do you say _innocent_ instead of this?"

"Because… both imply vulnerability," he said. He started to continue, but she cut him off.

"You think I'm _vulnerable_?" She glared at him.

"No!" He looked shocked. "I have no idea what you are, but I know for certain that you are not vulnerable."

She started. Here was a stranger who she had talked to for five minutes. A very obnoxious stranger, too. And yet, he had paid her one of the biggest compliments she had ever received. She looked away. She didn't want him seeing how much that meant to her.

"We came here to watch the fountain and the stars, right?" she said brusquely.

"Yeah…" he said.

"Well, then, I don't know about you, but I'd like to do that," she said.

* * *

Rhys turned his gaze towards the sky. Funnily enough, he didn't really need this nighttime journey anymore. Or, even if he did, it would be no good. Because he couldn't stop thinking about her.

Who was she, and what had she been through? He knew she was avoiding talking about herself, and her past, but why?

And if she so clearly hated him, why did she talk to him? What was going on in her mind?

She was strong, she had her wits about her. She seemed confident, yet not overconfident. She refused to talk about herself, her past. Yet when she really _talked,_ she talked like a smart and perceptive person.

As he sat there, on that bench, just thinking about her, and his problems, a ridiculous thought occurred to him. What if she was his… other half?

As quickly as he had the thought, he dismissed it. The idea was simply preposterous. He had known her for less than a day. There was no way it could be.

* * *

As dawn fell over the Heart of Asteria, Feyre picked herself up. It had been nice, watching the fountain and the stars like that. Relaxing. She would come here in the future if she felt overwhelmed or murky.

But today she would walk around the city, enjoy herself as best as she could. Maybe towards the end of the day she would try to confront her problems. Maybe.

For now, she would try not to think of Tamlin or home. She would just have a good day.

Oh, and she would definitely keep her thoughts off Rhys.

* * *

Dawn. Rhys got up and mentally prepared for a busy day at work. His speech was tomorrow, and he hoped to impress new generations of Asterians. After all, that was what democracy was all about.

He would go to the palace, have breakfast, and get straight to work. Hopefully he had a cabinet meeting. He loved his cabinet for what they brought to the table. Four different people, four completely different perspectives. They all had their own ideas, mannerisms, subtleties. But between the five of them, they were like a family.

Yes, that would be his day. He would focus today. He would not think about girls.

Especially Feyre.

 _Hey guys! Hope you enjoyed this chapter, I definitely had a lot of fun writing it! Some of my characters may be a bit OOC, but this is how I imagine them to be, not how they are. Again, y'all are entitled to your own opinion._

 _Have fun!_


	5. Chapter 5

Feyre couldn't sleep again.

After an enjoyable day in the city, full of fun, relaxation, and feeling normal, she retired to bed, feeling at ease. But then the nightmares came.

First, she was visiting Nesta and Elain, both of whom were gaunt and bony from starvation. She reached out to them, but Elain only shook her head no and trembled with fear. Then her father appeared. Also thin and scraggly, he pulled them away from her, his eyes wide with terror. He was afraid of her.

The dream shifted. She was back in the trials. She was trying so hard to escape the room, whose ceiling was steadily inching closer. Closer… closer… but she couldn't _read_ the inscriptions on the levers. She pushed… she struggled… she summoned all her courage and guessed. But she had guessed wrong… the ceiling came closer… closer… desperately, she guessed again, and in a display of infinite mercy, some higher power let her survive.

She was presented with a ruby red dagger, and was given one order: kill. The curtain came up, and five normal people, people just like her and Elain and her father, lay shackled to the floor. She was to take these five innocent lives… or she was to be eliminated herself. Heart pounding faster and faster, her mind raced. Kill… or be killed. Kill… or be killed. Which to choose?

She had woken up with a start, sweating. No. No. No. She didn't want to go through these memories again. She shuddered. She would be getting no sleep tonight.

Feyre hoisted herself out of bed. If she were to have chronic nightmares, she might as well make a habit out of visiting her fountain. She called it her fountain now because it meant something to her, already. She felt like she _knew_ the fountain. So to her fountain she would go.

After getting dressed and a quick drink of water, she was out the door. Only halfway there, a thought occurred to her: What if Rhys was there as well?

* * *

It was midnight, and Rhys couldn't sleep.

Mor had told him that he needed his sleep, that he needed to get sleep to function properly for his big day tomorrow. But she knew, as he knew, that he would be getting no sleep. He never got any sleep before big speeches. It wasn't even nerves. It was just… something that was to be accepted.

He started to head to his fountain out of habit, when it suddenly occurred to him that Feyre might be there as well. He wasn't sure how he felt about that. He knew how she felt, but he almost wanted her to be there.

Whether or not Feyre was there, Rhys would be paying his fountain a visit tonight. But he couldn't present himself to others like this. Especially Feyre.

No, he would take some extra time to spruce himself up. Then he would head over there.

* * *

As Feyre watched the water flow in a hypnotizing pattern, she couldn't help the silent tears that poured down her cheeks. She was broken, she was alone, and she was sad. She would have to accept that for the time being.

Who was she, really? She certainly wasn't Lady Feyre of Chlorida anymore. Was she Feyre Archeron, sister to Nesta and Elain Archeron, and her mother's daughter? Was she Tamlin's wife? Or was she so lost that she had lost all her identity?

The tears flowed harder as Feyre realized she had not only lost her identity, she had lost everything. Love. Happiness. Innocence. Family. Home. And what had she gained in the past few months? Only freedom.

She started to curse herself. _Useless wretched good-for-nothing horrible eternally damned…_ She paused. But was that true? She had lost everything, but was she entirely to blame?

Maybe the stars would answer her question. She looked up and groaned as she saw the violet, insufferable eyes that belonged to Rhys.

* * *

Rhys felt horrible. Clearly he had interrupted Feyre in the middle of a private moment. She had been crying, he could see that. Her eyes were streaked with tears. Immersed in all her sorrow, she looked more beautiful than ever. But he had to give her space.

"I'm sorry," he said, awkwardly backing away.

To his complete surprise and bewilderment, she shook her head and beckoned for him to come back.

"It doesn't matter now," she said.

"No, no, really, I'll leave…" he felt more horrible than ever.

"It doesn't matter. The past is history," she said defiantly.

"Ok… well, in that case, what brings a beautiful young lady like you out here two nights in a row?" he asked.

"Again, I am not a beautiful young lady," she flashed. "And I could ask you the same thing."

He shrugged. "I'm everywhere," he said.

* * *

She knew it was a lie. She knew this place meant something to him, like it meant something to her. But she didn't want to delve into her similarities with him.

So she just said, "I pity the Heart of Asteria." Really, what else was there to say?

He rolled his eyes. "A gorgeous princess like you should be sleeping right now, waiting for her true love's kiss," he said.

She glared at him. "You don't know me at all," she said. "So stop calling me a princess and get the hell out of here." Really, who was he, to be talking to her like this?

"Okay, okay…" he started to slowly back away.

To her complete and utter bewilderment, she found herself shaking her head no, beckoning for him to come back. What was wrong with her? Why did she want him around? Was she so broken, so desperate for company, that she was willing to take the first asshole who came along?

"Come on, Feyre, pull yourself together," she thought.

* * *

Rhys was surprised. Why did she want to talk to him? He hadn't been particularly kind to her or anything… So why him?

He was willing to take what she gave to him, though. He walked back towards her, slowly, slowly…

They both looked at each other. And just stared awkwardly. What was he doing here? What was she doing here?

Finally, she broke the silence. "I have a purely hypothetical question for you." Her eyes flashed.

Rhys was intrigued. "Go on," he said.

"Suppose you have a person, and their significant other. The person has committed horrible deeds in his or her past. He or she is broken, will forever carry the burden of those deeds." She paused as if to see his reaction, looking slightly uncomfortable and awkward.

"Go on," he said, as encouragingly as possible.

"But their significant other forces them to be happy, forces them to put the deeds behind them, tells the person that as long as they were together she or he has no excuse to be unhappy." She looked at him with fire in her eyes.

"Yeah…" He was really curious at this point. Did this possibly have some connection to her?

"Who do you think is more _evil_ in this scenario?" She sighed, as if that had been a huge weight off her shoulders.

Rhys considered. "Definitely the significant other," he said. "Because the person knows what they did was wrong. And they have paid the price for it, they will atone for their sins for the rest of their life. But it is the job of their significant other to help them through that, not force them to push it away."

He looked at her. Silent tears were streaming down her cheeks. He looked away. What had he done? Was it right? What had his answer meant to her? He knew he should give her space.

"Thank you," she said, leaving him in utter bewilderment as he walked away.

* * *

Feyre didn't know why she was crying. Why did a stranger's opinion matter so much to her? For that matter, why did Rhys' opinion matter so much to her?

But… his reasoning was… amazing. He really was smart, she had to give him that. Not only that, he had sounded so kind, and _understanding._ Did he know? Did he suspect that this was her story? With all her heart, she certainly hoped not.

And yet… part of her hoped that he _did_ know. Because Feyre didn't know how much longer she could hold her pain by herself. She needed _someone._

And Rhys… he had talked like he _did_ know. But, strangely, it hadn't hurt her. She felt stronger, more together, more herself.

The tears slowly subsided as she thought about what Rhys had said. She was paying her price for killing those innocent lives, that was for certain. Not a night went by without vivid nightmares about them, nightmares that left her gasping for breath, left her feeling sick and miserable and terrified and thoroughly useless. She felt the burden of her sins weighing her down every moment that she lived, breathed, existed. Yes, she had paid the price. She was broken.

But was Rhys right? It was Tamlin's duty to help her heal, wasn't it?

Yes. It certainly was. But… Feyre wasn't sure Tamlin had seen how broken she was. Tamlin was so focused on _them_ , as a couple, that he had forgotten about _her._ And it wasn't just that. Feyre hated him, yes. He had been a blind fool. But a part of her still loved him. A part of her still believed that they could make it work. After all, she had killed for him, hadn't she?

So the question remained: would she go back to him, ever?

She still wasn't sure. She still had too many feelings to sort out. But tonight had really helped. She got up and proceeded to walk to her hotel room, her mind renewed and ready for the presidential speech.

"I really ought to thank Rhys," she said as an afterthought.

* * *

The more Rhys thought about it, the more he was certain. Feyre had _definitely_ not been asking a "purely hypothetical" question. No, there was something more to that question. Feyre had been one of the two people.

As to which one, there was no question. Two steady nights of observing Feyre led him to believe, conclusively, that she had some sort of horrible past, a past that had left scars on her heart, a past that she did not want to talk about. Plus, she had definitely thanked him.

So, almost definitely, Feyre had committed some horrible acts in the past, and heavily paid the price for it. But her husband… his insides twisted at the thought. Feyre should not be treated like that. Feyre deserved better. Feyre needed someone who would help her heal, not leave the wounds to fester.

As he thought this, it occurred to him that he felt strangely protective of Feyre. Pushing this thought away, he went back to preparing for his speech. He was almost ready.

Straightening his tie and hastily brushing his hair, he called for his Secretary of Foreign Relations and favorite cousin Mor. Within a few minutes, she came in, sighing.

"What is it this time, Oh Worried One?" she poked.

He smiled. There was nothing like a little Mor to set his day off on a good course.

"How do you think I look?" he said, slightly awkwardly.

"Why, have you finally found a girl?" she teased, playfully punching his shoulder.

"No, of course not, you airhead, I just want to look good for my speech!" He pushed away all thoughts of Feyre. Why was she even coming to mind?

Mor saw his look. "There is someone, isn't there?" He gulped. There would be no shaking off Mor.

"She's no one," he said. "Just barely a friend, if you could even call her that," he swallowed.

"Hmm… I'd like to meet this girl," Mor grinned impishly. Rhys groaned. There was no getting around this. "I'm not even going to ask where you met her," she continued. "But… is she cute?"

He sighed. "Yeah, she's beautiful and all," he said brusquely. "Now, let's get back to preparing for today."

He braced himself. This speech would go well, he convinced himself. Cassian and Azriel and Mor had said so. Amren had said otherwise, but that was just Amren. He set that aside. Yes, today, he would go make a powerful speech, make a powerful mark on his people's minds.

Only afterwards would he think about Feyre.

 _Hey guys! Hope you enjoyed this chapter!_

 _I really loved adding Mor's character in, though she may have been a bit OOC. That was really fun._

 _So initially I had meant for Rhys' speech to be in this chapter, but there was so much to write about Feyre and her internal conflict that I had to put it off. It's coming in Chapter 6, I promise._

 _Enjoy the story, as always!_


	6. Chapter 6

**Feyre**

Feyre was ready to learn how a republic was run.

She sat in the _front row_ of seats, ready for the president to begin his speech. Not for the first time, she wondered who this mysterious president could possibly be. Was he or she a noble? An aristrocrat? A philanthropist? Or was he or she just an ordinary working class person, someone like her? Experience led her to think the former, but she fervently hoped the latter.

How did a republic grow so well? How was it that a province ruled by a representative of the people did not dissolve into chaos, but instead managed to prosper and thrive and feel so free? Feyre longed to know.

It occurred to her that for the first time in many months she was feeling _excitement._ Just a little bit of it, but enough to make her smile at the sensation, the high feelings coursing through her body. It had been so long. Yes. She was ready.

Right on cue, a woman in a black wrap dress with short black hair comes out. As Feyre looked closer, she could see her eyes were silver. And… those eyes looked terrifying. Her nails, too, if they could be called that. They were more like talons, and polished red, each one of them looked like a weapon. Was this woman somehow involved in the republic?

"Good morning, everyone, and welcome to the Republic of Asteria. Before our president comes out, I would like to say a few words," she said.

She sounded fairly normal to Feyre.

"My name is Amren, and I am the Treasury Secretary here in Asteria. It is the cold, hard work of facing the facts of the country, and telling your colleagues the unpleasant truths. That being said, for as long as I have been secretary, we have not fought any wars, and I certainly hope we never will. Wars are frightfully expensive, you know."

General applause. Despite her better instincts, Feyre found herself warming to this Amren.

"That being said, I know how hard your president works just to keep this country running and prosperous. He is a man of high moral character, strong intellect, and above all, he is not afraid to dream. Though he may not have been born wealthy, he has since more than risen to the occasion, and a better president we could not wish for."

Even more applause. Feyre definitely liked this president, though she still wondered who he was.

"He and his Cabinet together run the country, but they run the country for you." She pointed a nail at the audience. Feyre shuddered. "Today is his annual message to you. He tells me to tell you this: think of it like he is checking in with you. Today is about him, but it is about you, too." Was it her imagination, or did Feyre see sarcasm in those silvery eyes?

"So, without further ado, I present President Rhysand to you."

Wait. What?

Rhysand?

It couldn't be… She tried to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach as the audience around her exploded into applause.

But as she looked up onto the podium, and saw the man coming to address them, she found her worst suspicions to be true.

President Rhysand was… Rhys.

* * *

 **Rhys**

It had all been going so well.

Amren had made her speech. She had mostly stuck to the words, too. He had taken that to be a good sign. He had felt good, confident, and ready to deliver. And he had walked out of his dressing room, onto the podium.

But then he had seen her. And she had seen him.

And oh, the fire in her eyes! The look she gave struck him harder than a knife to the stomach. God, it hurt.

'No matter,' he told himself. 'I can still make a powerful speech. What does it matter if she is in the crowd? She is just another of the many citizens. She means nothing to me. Why should I care?'

But he knew it was a lie. With a sinking feeling, he cleared his throat and began speaking.

* * *

 **Feyre**

Feyre was still in shock.

She knew she was glaring at him. It was almost reflexive, at this point. She still was unsure on how she felt about it.

Rhys was… the president? Of all the possible jobs, Feyre never would have imagined Rhys in this one. Any other job seemed mildly plausible. But visualizing him as a leader took a lot of imagination on her part.

So mostly, she was just feeling surprised. She was also surprised to find that she was angry at him for not telling her this. Feyre knew, in her heart of hearts, that Rhys had no obligation to tell a stranger his job, just because he had seen her two nights in a row. But she found herself feeling slightly hurt, against her better judgement.

She looked up. Rhys had begun his speech. He seemed slightly nervous, on edge. It took her a moment or two to realize that it was because of _her_ , that _she_ had thrown him off.

'Maybe I had better stop glaring,' she thought. She wasn't really mad at him, after all. She smoothed her brows, smiled, and continued watching.

"The strength of a republic lies not in its leader, but its structure. You see, the way a republic is structured allows _perspective._ Perspective has been the key to governing effectively, for me," Rhys said.

Feyre leaned forward. She was interested in what he had to say. For now, she would put aside the fact that it was _Rhys,_ of all people, saying this.

"My Cabinet consists of five people, including myself. Each one provides a unique perspective on government, and how it should be run. The five of us together troubleshoot and brainstorm, and with all those ideas and perspectives, we come up with a practical and humane solution to our problem."

"Cabinet aside, we also have a House of 100, who vote on all of our decisions. They provide your voice. Because, let's face it, my colleagues and I can sometimes be a bit controversial. The House reminds us who we are governing for."

"And beyond that, we gain valuable insight from the thousands of Asterians who choose to speak to us, or to write to us. Believe me when I say _your contributions do count._ "

Feyre found herself smiling and clapping. She couldn't help it. Despite her mixed feelings on Rhys, what he was saying made perfect sense to her.

The rest of the speech continued like this. Feyre still couldn't believe her ears. Rhys sounded so educated, so much more than she would ever have imagined. And what he was saying made perfect sense to her. A republic really was free because everyone had say in it, no matter how small.

An hour or so later, after a moving, eloquent, and fantastic speech, Rhys said, "Thank you," and the audience started to pour out of the outdoor pavilion. Feyre, however, hung back. She wanted to leave, but her feet held her firm. What was wrong with her? Why was she staying back?

* * *

 **Rhys**

Rhys thought it had gone pretty well. Except for the small hitch at the beginning, his speech had gone seamlessly. He now stood at his podium, waiting for everyone to leave.

Except that as the audience slowly trickled out all around her, Feyre stayed put, looking thoroughly lost and confused. Why was this? Feyre was an intelligent young lady. She wouldn't have trouble getting out of a pavilion.

Then it clicked. Of course! She was confused because of him. After all, he had never told her his job.

Mor sidled up to Rhys, and said, "Is that your young lady? Because she's gorgeous."

"No, she is not my 'young lady,'" Rhys replied, exasperated. "And yes, she is pretty gorgeous, but I don't _like_ her…"

"Keep believing that," Mor smiled. Then to Rhys' complete horror and shock, she strided down the podium, headed straight for Feyre.

Rhys gulped. He had to stop this.

* * *

 **Feyre**

"Hi, I'm Mor."

Dazed and disoriented, Feyre was completely surprised to find a pretty young woman behind her addressing her.

"Feyre," she mumbled.

"Rhys has told me so much about you," she said.

Wait. What? This woman was a friend of _Rhys?_ More importantly, what had Rhys said about her?

She started to say something, but Mor cut her off.

"No worries, we both know that Rhys has his faults. He can be a bit awkward, and he may come off as arrogant." She smiled.

Feyre grinned. She was starting to like this Mor. "That's putting it mildly," she said. She looked towards Rhys. He looked like he wanted to join the two of them, but Mor held out a hand.

"Girl talk," Mor explained. Rhys nodded and backed off, disgusted.

"Can I ask you a question?" Feyre asked.

"Of course," Mor smiled.

"How in God's name did _Rhys_ end up _president?_ "

Mor laughed. "He may be a bit socially challenged, but he is one of the most intelligent and well spoken people I know," she said. "Plus, Rhys may seem arrogant to those who know him, but he really does try to be the people's president."

"Huh," Feyre replied. She was having some trouble getting used to this new Rhys. "It's just that he never told me."

"He didn't?" Mor smiled coyly. Feyre wondered what that look meant.

"What?" she said.

"Oh, nothing…" Mor glanced at Rhys, a sly smile on her face, leaving Feyre utterly confused.

"He really is terrible, isn't he?" Mor laughed.

"Yeah," Feyre smiled. She was really enjoying this girl talk. It occurred to her that she had never made girl talk in her entire life. It was so… relaxing, and fun.

"He isn't all terrible, though," Feyre continued. "I've met much worse."

"Who?" Mor asked.

Her insides suddenly twisted at the thought. "I don't want to talk about him," she said brusquely. "He made Rhys look like an angel."

It was true, now that Feyre thought about it. Rhys might be obnoxious, and arrogant, and know-it-all, and cocky, and… well… less than pleasant, but, beneath all of that, his heart was in the right place. He knew when to say the right thing, he knew when it mattered. She appreciated that.

Mor put a hand on hers. "That's ok, we don't have to talk about it," she said. The two of them sat in silence for a few minutes.

"Hey, do you have any dinner plans?" Mor suddenly asked.

"No…" Feyre was confused. Why would this matter at all? She would eat dinner alone, just as she had for the past couple days.

"Then how's about you join us for dinner?"

Feyre started. A dinner invitation? "Who, exactly, do you mean by 'us'?" she asked suspiciously.

"Well," said Mor, "it would be our Cabinet. That's me, Rhys, Amren, you know Amren, right?" she paused.

"Yeah," Feyre smiled. "Against my better instincts I found myself liking her."

Mor grinned. "That's how the rest of us feel." She smiled.

"Who else is in the Cabinet?" Feyre asked.

"Well, there's Cassian, our Secretary of War and Commander in Chief," Mor said. "I think you'll like him. He's like Rhys, but really very different."

"Okay…" Feyre said. So this dinner party would be a bit of an adventure. So what? She was ready for some adventure. She was ready to live life again.

"And finally, there's Azriel, our Covert Operations Director," Mor said. "He is… well…" But she trailed off and refused to say any more.

"Well," said Feyre slowly, "I'd love to join you, if you guys are okay with it."

"Great!" said Mor. "Then that's settled. Come with us, I think we've left Rhys hanging for too long."

It was true. Rhys stood a few meters off, a blank expression on his face. He looked lost and confused.

"Let's go!" Feyre said, feeling happier than she had been feeling in a long time.

* * *

 **Rhys**

Rhys was shocked. What could Mor possibly be thinking? She was going to get murdered by Feyre!

But when the two of them walked towards him ten minutes later, they were laughing and talking like old friends. What was going on? And why was Feyre coming with Mor?

Right on cue, Mor said, "Hey Rhys, Feyre here is going to be joining us for dinner!"

What? No. He could not, no, he would not let this happen. He could not have dinner with Feyre and the Cabinet. His feelings for Feyre were too complicated. He did not need Mor and Amren and Cass and Az there, further confusing him.

Sensing his feelings, Mor said, "Oh, come on, you don't want her to have dinner _alone,_ do you?"

He was about to say yes, when a vision came to his mind unbidden. Feyre sitting alone, in a restaurant, broken, like he had seen her at the fountain. Just sitting there, trying to find her way again.

He compared this to the laughing, joyful Feyre he had seen a few minutes ago with Mor. Feyre deserved some fun. No, he would put his personal feelings aside.

"Feyre is welcome to dine with us," he said brusquely.

* * *

 **Feyre**

Feyre was delighted. For the first time in, well, her entire life, she had a _friend._ From what she remembered with Tamlin, love was a wonderful feeling. But now she realized that if you had a lover, but no friends, you were still missing something. Because friendship provided so much that love never could.

That being said, Feyre also remembered how much love gave her. And she couldn't help but miss that. Oh, well.

She was very excited to meet Amren, Cassian, and Azriel. So far, all of Rhys' Cabinet had been so _different._ She appreciated that. A country governed by five completely different people was overall a more effective country if they could agree. Likewise, an evening with five completely different people would be something very entertaining indeed.

She glanced at Rhys, who looked visibly uncomfortable. Was it because of her? Almost certainly.

That was okay. Hopefully he would warm up as the evening went on. And as their little party of three entered the palace, Feyre _knew_ she would have a wonderful evening.

 _Hey guys! Hope you liked this!_

 _So I got some really sweet reviews that made my day. :) One suggestion I got was to add the point of view at the top of each section, so I edited the chapter and will be doing so from now on. I hope you find this less confusing than before._

 _I'm not too great at writing political stuff, but it was necessary to keep the story flowing, and it proved to be surprisingly fun. Feyre and Mor was definitely really fun to write; it's only after I wrote about them that I started passionately believing in the Bro-TP._

 _Anywho, have a great week, and enjoy!_


	7. Chapter 7

**Feyre**

The palace was gorgeous.

Though tall, intimidating, and dark, it did not give off a Gothic vibe at all. Instead, with the stars illuminating it perfectly, it looked fit for a moon goddess. Feyre also felt the palace to be slightly unconventional. She didn't know why. It was just a feeling. But she liked it.

Mor nudged her. "Pretty awesome, huh?"

"Words can't describe it," Feyre replied truthfully.

Mor knocked and the doors opened. A shadowy black man hugged Mor and Rhys hello, and with a look of slight surprise, shook Feyre's hand.

"Azriel," he said. "Director of Covert Operations in Asteria."

"Feyre, nice to meet you," she said, smiling.

"Nice to meet you, too," he said. "May I ask…"

"She's a friend of Rhys'," Mor said. "After a little chat with her I decided she was to dine with us." She grinned impishly.

Azriel smiled, though the look of surprise was still there. "You can call me Az," he told Feyre.

"Okay," Feyre laughed. She was really liking Rhys' cabinet.

Which reminded her. As Az and Mor walked a couple paces ahead, she hung back and nudged Rhys.

"Hey," she said. "I never got to thank you properly for the other night. It meant a lot to me." She looked at him expectantly.

"It was no problem," Rhys replied, relaxing his face. "I just spoke the truth. I'm glad it helped you out."

She looked at him. He knew, all right. He definitely knew the question had not been hypothetical. But he was not bringing it up, and she was grateful for that. The two of them walked in silence into the dining hall.

The dining hall was brightly lit, and as Feyre looked up, she saw thousands of little lights dotting the ceiling like stars. She smiled. The whole place, the whole experience, was too much for words. Her heart was soaring, flying.

Rhys nudged her. "Pretty awesome, huh?"

"Yeah," said Feyre. "Did you design it?"

"The four of us did. Amren excluded," he replied.

As she looked to the large but homely table, she saw two additional figures seated. One she recognized as Amren. The other was a muscular, dark man with a slightly edgy look to him. He flashed a smile.

"Cassian, Commander in Chief of the Forces of Asteria," he said.

"Feyre, friend of Rhys," she offered.

"Welcome," he replied mysteriously. Feyre couldn't help but wonder what that meant.

They sat down for dinner. Appetizers were served; warm bread with butter and an assortment of cheeses. Feyre began to devour her food. As they ate, Mor broke the silence.

"So I feel like we all owe you a proper introduction," she said. "Rhys can go first." She grinned.

Rhys looked down. "Really?" he said.

"Oh, come on, it's only us," Feyre said, laughing.

This seemed to lift a million pounds off his shoulders. "Okay, then," he said. "I'm Rhysand, President of Asteria. I was elected a few years ago for a life term. I really am trying to be the best president I can be, contrary to what Cassian says. I like books " - at this Feyre looked down uncomfortably - "and have been reading for my entire life. And… that's all," he said seriously.

Mor put a hand on his shoulder. "He's really much more interesting than that," she said. "And contrary to what _all of us_ say, he is an excellent president." Feyre smiled.

"Okay, how about Amren goes next?" Mor queried. Amren nodded once.

"Amren," she said. "Secretary of Treasury for Asteria. My parents left me here at an early age. For as long as I have lived, my one fervent wish has been to see my homeland. I do like Asteria, but it doesn't quite feel right," she concluded brusquely.

Feyre was surprised at her blunt honesty, but appreciated it. At least she knew that what she saw was what she got.

"Good luck on your journey," Feyre found herself saying. Amren nodded in acknowledgement.

"Okay, I'll go next," Mor said. "I'm Morrigan, Secretary of Foreign Relations here in Asteria. Like Amren, my parents didn't want me. They were… rather abusive." For the first time, Mor looked serious. Feyre put a hand on her shoulder.

"Rhys was a distant cousin. I came here seeking refuge, and he was more than understanding. And now, here I am!" she concluded.

Slowly, Feyre eased her arm off Mor's shoulder. She was moved by all of these stories. Here were people who had seen and experienced horrible things like her. Maybe they could understand.

Maybe. She would have to hear the rest of the stories first.

"Cassian, you're up," Mor said, as the salad and soup was served.

Cassian grinned. "Cassian, Commander in Chief of the military forces here. I'm a childhood friend of Rhys', same as Azriel here." He nudged Az, who promptly became very interested in his food.

"We were all illegitimate children, bastards. So we ended up rather rough around the edges. Of the three of us, I was always the impulsive, fighting one. Rhys was a fighter, too, but knowledge was his real passion. And Azriel was the quiet, mysterious one who stayed in the shadows. Still, our personalities matched, and two better friends I could not wish for," he concluded, putting an arm around Az and Rhys.

Feyre clapped. She sensed a bit of sorrow behind this pleasant sounding story. It sounded like the three of them had been outcasts, shunned from all society. She understood that.

"Okay!" Mor said. Then, with surprising tenderness, she asked Az, "Anything you'd like to add?"

"I think Cass covered it all," he grinned.

"Great!" said Mor. "In that case, we can move onto our special guest, Feyre!"

Wait. What? She had to introduce herself?

Feyre swallowed, and said, "I don't like talking about myself…"

"Oh, come on," said Mor. "It'll be fine!"

Nodding, she looked down and became very interested in her soup.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up. To her surprise, it was Rhys.

"Hey," he said, "you don't have to talk if you don't want to. But if you want to talk, we're not going to judge you. Look at us, who are we to judge?" he smiled. The others nodded in agreement.

"The president speaks true," Amren said. "This Cabinet may be many things, but it is certainly not judgemental."

Feyre continued to eat her soup. Amren didn't beat around the bush, she knew that. If she wanted to talk, she could talk. But Feyre knew she didn't want to talk.

And yet… it might be nice, just to get the whole affair off her shoulders. And she felt like she owed it to Rhys. After all, he did help her out. In a big way.

"Okay," said Feyre, lifting her chin, and she began to talk.

* * *

 **Rhys**

This was the moment Rhys had been waiting for. To hear Feyre's story.

"I was born in a humble village in Chlorida. I was the youngest of three children. Growing up, we were dirt poor. We had nothing. This was furthered by the fact that Chlorida has never been a very advanced civilization. In Chlorida, we lived under a dictatorship."

"Then, when I was nine, my mother died." Feyre stopped and swallowed. Silently, Rhys slipped his hand into hers. He could understand her pain.

"As she died, she made me promise to take care of Father and my two sisters, Nesta and Elain. I did my best to provide for them. It was hard, though. When Mother died, Father essentially died, too. And my sisters… Elain was sweet and loving, but there were things she didn't understand. She couldn't comprehend a possibility of her helping me out. Nesta acted cruel and icy to me all my life. I have never understood why, but I know there is more to her."

Rhys looked at Feyre. She seemed to be struggling to form words. He held her hand tighter.

"Then, around six months ago, my entire life changed. I was at a fruit stand, buying fruit, when I met a guy. We were young, we were foolish, we fell in love."

"Are you okay, Rhys?" Mor interrupted. "You look horribly angry…"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Rhys said, easing out his frown. Why had he been getting so worked up? It was only a guy, only a normal love affair…

"Also, the dinner's here," Mor said.

Dinner was the usual pasta they served to guests. Feyre's eyes visibly lit up at the sight of it, and it warmed Rhys' heart. After a few bites of pasta, Feyre cleared her throat and continued.

"Tamlin and I, we loved each other with all our hearts. But…" she paused. She seemed to be struggling to decide whether to go on or not.

"It's okay," Rhys said, holding her hand once more. She smiled gratefully.

"But he was the Emperor of Chlorida. To marry into a spot of prestige like that, it was not easy. There were trials, tests I was to go through."

He looked at her. She was pale and looked frightened. What could have possibly happened to this poor girl?

"Here," Rhys said, handing her a glass of water. "Drink."

"It's okay," she said gratefully. "I'll be fine."

She took a deep breath and continued. "One of my tests was to escape from a room in time. If I failed, the ceiling would crush me. But… one of my many faults… I have never been able to read. The moment of panic when I realized I would have to read the levers to figure it out… I have never experienced fear like that. I hope I never will again." She gulped. "I felt so worthless."

"You are not worthless," Mor said quietly. Rhys nodded emphatically.

"But the other test was far, far worse. I was presented with five innocent citizens of Chlorida, and was forced to prove that I would kill for Tamlin. I was forced to kill them. If I hadn't… done it, I would have been brutally murdered, and Tamlin would have gotten his Emperorship taken away. I will never be able to forget the five innocent lives I took out of this world, and the many more I ruined by doing so."

She was crying now. Without thinking, Rhys enveloped her in an embrace. To his surprise, she didn't resist.

"I… was broken after that. I… knew I… was worthless… cursed… forever damned… evil… But Tamlin didn't understand. He forced me to be happy. How could I be sad, he thought, when I was with him? As long as there was us, there was to be no me." With this, she dissolved into tears.

Rhys held her tight. Feyre had been through so much. The least he could do was to offer some comfort. He stroked her hair.

"I had no idea," Mor said. "I'm so sorry." Cass and Az nodded in agreement.

"Be assured, you will have no such problems here in Asteria," Amren said.

"You can stay the night?" Mor offered. Feyre nodded.

Rhys just held her. She was warm in his embrace. God, she smelled good. And she looked beautiful.

What was he thinking? Shoving all such thoughts out of his mind, he just held her and held her and held her, and prayed for all of her troubles to melt away.

 _Hey y'all! I had a lot of fun writing this one, though it is a bit short. As you can see, I really love fluff and sap and all that stuff._

 _I feel like Cassian is a bit OOC. I'll definitely try to fix that in later chapters._

 _Stay awesome, readers! 3_


	8. Chapter 8

_Warning: Mild ACOWAR spoilers_

 **Feyre**

Morning.

Groggily, Feyre pushed herself up and out of the bed. Where was she again? Ah, yes. Rhys' palace. Wonderful.

She cursed herself for losing control last night. Why had she talked? Why had she told them? She didn't even know these people! It was stupid.

And yet… a part of Feyre felt better after letting go, after telling someone. She felt a little bit more at peace.

The door opened. Out of instinct, she glared at the opener of the door.

It was Rhys. He looked more arrogant than ever as he smoothed back his hair and his lips eased into a sensual smile.

"Hello, Feyre darling," he said. "How are you feeling today?"

Glaring, she said, "I feel just fine, no thanks to you."

He sat down next to her. His smile faded, and he looked serious. "Yesterday night was very… moving," he said.

Feyre looked down. Could they talk about anything else, anything but that?

"How long have you been illiterate?" he asked.

"My entire life, what do you think?" Her eyes flashed. How thick was he? And how insensitive?

"That's what I thought," he said. "How long have you wanted to learn?"

"My entire life," she replied honestly. It was true. And before her mother had died, it was a possibility. But fate had chosen a different path for her.

"Feyre, I am going to teach you how to read," Rhys said bluntly.

What? No! She did not want to learn to read from _him!_ Anyone else would be fine by her. Mor, Amren, Cass, Az, but not Rhys. Please, anyone but Rhys.

"No, not from you," she snapped back.

"Feyre, you need to learn," he said seriously. "You want to learn, too. And do you see anyone else offering to teach you?" He raised an eyebrow.

She gulped. His words had a certain ring of truth to them. She definitely wanted to learn to read. And… Rhys was offering. He definitely wasn't her favorite person in the world, but… at least he was offering.

She took a deep breath. "Okay, I'm in," she said, praying that she had chosen right.

* * *

 **Mor**

"I think it went well," Mor said, grinning.

"Are you sure?" Cassian asked.

"I'm positive," she smiled. "Those two are meant to be." Mor was certain of this. The protective looks Rhys gave Feyre, the hesitant smiles Feyre returned to Rhys… it was a relationship in the making.

She was happy for Rhys. His path to fame… it hadn't been easy on him. Now he was finally getting a chance at love. She just hoped he didn't screw it up.

"Totally," Cass agreed. "I just hope Rhys doesn't blow it and say something stupid."

Mor laughed. He had echoed her thoughts.

"Just imagine," Cass continued, "he'll walk into her room, and say something like 'Hello, Feyre darling,' and completely reset their relationship."

"Oh, I have no doubt that will happen," Mor grinned. "Rhys just has some tomcat like instincts he can't override."

"So I guess the real question is, what will she make of it?" Cass pondered.

"Well, I'm sure she's used to it by now," Mor reasoned. "He'd have put comments like that into every other sentence."

"She can't like it, though," Cass said.

"And how would you know how the female mind works?" Mor teased.

"I've tried it," Cass said. "They get so spitting mad, and they look so damn attractive. If I ever meet my woman, I will of course… resort to crude measures to woo them."

Mor faked a look of surprise. "No way," she said. "I never would have guessed!"

"I guess you don't know me very well," Cass said. "Anyway, a person like me has more important things to do than to stand around and talk to you here. Hasta la vista!"

"Bye," Mor rolled her eyes.

"Oh, and good luck to Rhys," he added, swinging the door shut on his way out.

* * *

 **Cassian**

On his way out, Cassian ran into Azriel. Az looked pensive and ill at ease. He nudged him.

"Is something the matter?" Cass asked.

"Oh, it's nothing…" Az replied.

"You can't keep a secret from me," Cass poked, smiling.

"I mean, I could, but… I guess I'll tell you," Az sighed.

"Spill," Cass grinned.

"Do you think she has any feelings for me?" Az gestured to the closed room containing Mor.

Cass started. "Certainly not," the words slipped off his tongue.

At that moment, Az's face fell a million yards. He gave Cass the most pathetic nod ever, and turned around to be on his way.

"Wait, no!" Cass grabbed his arm. "It's not like that."

"Then what is it?" Az still looked steadily at the floor as he spoke.

"Mor… likes girls," Cass said. He felt slightly guilty at revealing Mor's secret. Though the five of them were like a family, he knew Mor had not wanted to break Az's heart. But since he had slipped up, he had to fix it.

"Oh," Az looked slightly heartened. "I'm sure I'll find someone else."

"Yes, I'm sure you will," Cass tried to muster all of his optimism and put it into his voice. He smiled and the two walked their separate ways.

* * *

 **Feyre**

Feyre had been reading for hours, and she was finally starting to get it.

Different letters corresponded to different sounds, and when put together, they created words. But there were so many exceptions! It made her head spin.

"Read this," Rhys said. She groaned.

"Rhys is the cleverest, handsomest, most successful and best president to currently exist," she read. On cue, she looked up and rolled her eyes at him.

He shrugged. "It's true," he said.

Feyre suspected the hours of toil and fatigue were starting to get to her brain, because she let out a small laugh at this.

Rhys held out a hand to her. "Good work today," he said. "You've got a lot more to learn, but you're learning fast."

She stood up and shook his hand meaningfully. She really was grateful for this, though why he was doing it she had no clue.

"It means a lot to me," she told him truthfully. "I've always wanted this, but my family could never afford it." As she said this, she thought of her family and looked down. She had still failed them. They still couldn't afford it. She felt like she was cheating on them.

"What is it?" Rhys asked.

"Nothing," Feyre replied. No more telling her secrets to him.

With surprising tenderness, he put a hand on her shoulder. "I can help you," he said.

Once again, she found herself talking. "It isn't fair that I should get this knowledge, yet my sisters stay starved and in the dark."

"Hmm…" Rhys said. "What if we paid them a visit? We could invite them to stay at the castle?"

"But I'm not even staying at the castle," Feyre said indignantly. "That was a temporary arrangement."

"Oh," Rhys looked slightly sheepish. "Would you like to stay at the castle permanently?"

"No, I wouldn't, I'd rather stay in my shabby hotel room alone and friendless at night," she said sarcastically. "Of course I would, you idiot," she punched him on the shoulder.

His smile stretched from ear to ear. "Then how would you feel about inviting your sisters here?"

She sighed. "I'm not sure," she said. "They might be mad at me. Nesta especially." She looked down. How was she going to face her family?

"We can face them together," Rhys said, as if to console her. "All five of us, I mean," he added hurriedly.

Feyre pondered. His offer had its merit. She knew she had to face her family, but now she would be doing it with people who cared about her. She was pretty sure at this point that Rhys cared for her. And… she cared for him a little bit too. Just a little bit.

"Okay, we can leave as soon as possible," Feyre said.

"Perfect," Rhys said, leaving the room. "Dinner in an hour."

* * *

 **Rhys**

'That Feyre is really something,' Rhys thought as he left the room. She was strong inside, she had to be to cope with all of those feelings. But she wasn't heartless.

Rhys entered the Cabinet meeting room. The rest of the Cabinet was already there.

"Thanks a lot for letting me take today off," he said, by way of greeting.

"No problem," Mor giggled. "You need to spend time with her."

Rhys rolled his eyes and looked to Cass for support. To his surprise, Cass was nodding in agreement with Mor. He sighed and sat down.

"So, I have a proposition for you all," he said, recounting his proposition to Feyre to the rest of them.

"We should do this," Amren said. "It's good for our country too. We can make it a diplomatic trip as well. Rhys will look stellar, going to help poor people in another country."

"Of course you should help out your lady Feyre," Mor laughed. "You have to do what you can for her. And frankly, I think this is the best favor we could do her."

"Sisters, you say?" Cass asked. "I'm pretty interested."

"Oh, no," Az sighed. But he looked like he secretly agreed with Cassian.

"And I'm of course in," Rhys said. "That's excellent! We're going to Chlorida!"

* * *

 **Rhys**

After dinner and a deliciously filling Charlotte Russe, Rhys lay in his bed trying to fall asleep.

"Things are definitely changing," he thought. He wasn't sure if it was a good or bad thing for the country. But he knew that Feyre was the best thing that had happened to him in so long. She was sweet, she was strong, she felt things. He really loved spending time with her.

The rest of his Cabinet seemed to be thriving a little bit more with Feyre's arrival, too. Feyre was benefiting from having Mor as a friend, but it was benefiting Mor, too. She seemed overall happier. Azriel was less quiet, Cassian had less dark about him. Even Amren seemed more positive.

"I know Feyre is a good thing," he thought. "I feel it with all of my heart."

* * *

 **Feyre**

"I think I like it here," Feyre noted, as she lay trying to fall asleep.

It was true. The castle had welcomed her like no other place had, and for the first time, she felt like she had friends. She felt like she belonged here.

And Rhys… Feyre knew she didn't hate him as much. How could she, after he kept giving her favor after favor? Everything he did for her changed her life, everything he did for her was meaningful. Nothing like Tamlin's insidious pink bouquets.

She paused. Why was she comparing Rhys to Tamlin? They were completely different. She shoved those thoughts out of her mind.

"Never mind," she said. "I love this castle, I love these people, and I have to say, I don't hate Rhys."

 _A/N_

 _Hello wonderful readers! Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Sorry it's so short, this is what came out when I was writing._

 _Just to clear this up, I have not read ACOWAR. A friend told me how all the relationships changed, so I knew Mor came out as... not straight, I guess. I wasn't sure how she came out, though, so I took the story and plot in my own direction. Hope you like it!_

 _Stay beautiful 3_


	9. Chapter 9

**I'm back! So sorry it's been so long, but ACOWAR came out, and without reading it the story just felt kinda wrong... you know what I mean? But I've read it now, and AAAHHH IT'S SO AMAZING! Anyway, as always, the characters belong to the amazing Sarah J. Maas, and enjoy!**

* * *

 **Feyre**

"You ready to go?"

Feyre groggily blinked her eyes open. Who could possibly be intruding her privacy at this hour, arousing her so abruptly?

Never mind. She knew the answer already. Her feelings were confirmed as she looked into Rhys' violet eyes.

"Prick," she replied. "I'm not clothed right now, so I'd thank you to _leave_ , and _I_ will let you know when I'm ready." She squirmed under the covers uncomfortably.

"What would be the fun in that?" his eyes sparkled.

She glared. Was he really going to _watch her change_ against my will? Old feelings of hatred resurfaced.

"Oh, don't be silly, I'm not going to do that," Rhys laughed, the sound brightening the entire room. "But if you want privacy, you're going to have to work for it."

She groaned. "Ten seconds? Just to get to the bathroom?"

"Fine," Rhys grinned, putting his hands over his eyes. "One… two… three…"

Feyre quickly wrenched the covers off her and ran to the bathroom. She was surprised to find that she was not annoyed at Rhys. Contrary to that, she felt happy and light and good inside. This bantering and teasing… this was what a friendship should be like. This was fun.

"Hmm…" Feyre thought aloud. "What should I wear that would just _blow_ Rhys' mind? Aha! Perfect!" She pulled on a sparkly purple blouse and a black pencil skirt, carefully tucking the blouse into the skirt.

"Careful, Feyre darling, you tread a dangerous line," Rhys replied.

"Oh, I know," she smiled wickedly to herself.

About a week ago, this sort of conversation would have been impossible for her. Now… now, it was easy. The words just rolled right off of her tongue. And she was enjoying it.

Maybe Asteria was helping her heal. Maybe Asteria was what Feyre needed.

Throwing back her hair, she brushed out the tangles and started to braid it. Just a simple half-braid was her plan; nothing too complicated. Complicated was what Tamlin liked. She would not go back there.

"Amren's getting impatient!" Rhys called.

"Liar," Feyre replied, grinning. "You just want to see how dazzling I look today."

Tucking the last few strands of hair into her braid, she paused and looked at herself, took herself in.

"Not bad," she thought. It was true. Her face had a healthy glow to it, and for the first time in months, she looked well-fed.

"Are you done admiring yourself, Feyre darling?" Rhys asked.

"How did you know…" Feyre exclaimed indignantly.

"Just a lucky guess," Rhys said. She could feel him smiling on the other side, his violet eyes sparkling.

Looking at herself one last time, Feyre considered makeup as a last effect, but decided against it. No, makeup was an Old Feyre thing. New Feyre would not touch the vile substance. New Feyre would let her face shine.

Pausing for dramatic effect, she ever so carefully turned the doorknob, and then thrust it aside, posing for Rhys.

"Here I am!" she said.

* * *

 **Rhys**

She was beautiful.

Not just her physical self, her striking outfit and her beautiful hair. It wasn't even that perfect face of hers.

No, it was that she looked happy. And happiness was a beautiful look on her.

Honestly, Rhys was resisting every urge in his body, every urge that screamed to kiss this beautiful woman. He growled, trying to keep away, but some primal instinct was pushing him towards her, closer, closer…

Mor walked into the room.

"Ready to go?" she asked, then paused as she looked at Rhys and started. "Holy shit, Rhys, what is going on?"

"Feyre here looks absolutely stunning, don't you agree?" Rhys heaved, easing back into his senses. "I was just admiring her."

"Whatever you say, Rhys," Mor winked at Feyre, making Rhys smile.

Feyre. She was still smiling, thank goodness. She wasn't creeped out by him. Oh, goodness. Feyre was off-limits to him. Feyre was technically still married.

And Feyre wasn't even _that_ to him, Rhys told himself. She was just a friend. A really good friend.

"So, are we ready to go? Feyre, you look gorgeous, as ever… Rhys must have pointed that out," Mor grinned.

"No, he actually didn't," Feyre grinned back. "I think I achieved my goal to render him speechless."

Damned right. Speechless didn't even cut it.

Rhys walked over to Feyre and gently held her arm. "Are you sure you're ready?"

Mor held the other arm. "Anything you say is fine by us."

"No," Feyre said, taking a deep breath. "I don't think I will ever be ready. But sometimes… life is about just doing it anyway. Nesta and Elain have waited far too long for this. We need to do this for them."

"Okay, then," Rhys said gently. He was proud of this girl, this girl he barely knew and yet somehow twisted his stomach into knots every time she spoke. He was very proud.

"There's something else I should tell you," Rhys said. "We need to make a quick stop in… Vasara. I need to talk to their ruler, Tarquin… and Amren has a friend there." A friend who he suspected was more than a friend, but that was beside the point. Feyre could gossip with someone else.

Feyre swallowed, casting her gaze down. "Is it… near Chlorida? Do they know?"

"Tarquin is a good person," Rhys assured. "You will be safe in his kingdom. And when we do go to Chlorida, we will hide you." He patted her hand, and she smiled gratefully. God, she looked so beautiful.

Mor giggled. "You should be sensitive about Amren's 'friend.' She's definitely more than a friend." Rhys groaned. He knew Feyre would find someone to gossip with.

"Oh yeah?" Feyre looked up, raising her eyebrows. "Tell me about it."

That was Rhys' cue to leave.

* * *

 **Rhys**

On his way out, Rhys ran into Azriel, who looked forlorn and sad. Wordlessly, he continued on. Azriel, he had learned, needed to be left alone when he was… going through a rough spot.

He spotted Cassian on the staircase and nodded to him. "We need to talk," Rhys said. Cassian nodded.

"Is it about Azriel?" he replied.

"Yeah… what's wrong?" Rhys asked.

"I can't say," Cassian said, looking uncomfortable. _This_ was unusual. Azriel and Mor and Amren may have had their secrets, but Cassian was usually an open book. Concerned, Rhys put an arm on his shoulder.

"You can tell me anything you want to," Rhys said.

"No, it's not like that," Cassian said, almost smiling. "It's someone else's secret. I can't say because I'm technically not supposed to know."

Intrigued, Rhys raised his eyebrows, but he shook his head. Okay. If even _Cassian_ said no, Rhys knew it must be really private. Nodding, he moved on.

"Get ready, and make sure Az does too," he called back as an afterthought.

* * *

 **Feyre**

"Do you think it'll be fine?" Feyre asked Mor.

She was truly hilarious, not just the way she knew _what_ would make her laugh, but the animated manner in which she told the stories. Mor was a special person. Her friend. Feyre felt like she could confide in Mor.

So… she was. Confiding in those she could confide in. Letting go of the feelings, the stories… it made her feel more at peace.

"Can I be honest?" Mor replied. Feyre nodded.

"There is no way anything will go wrong, not with Rhys looking after you. He's become really protective of you, you know." She smiled.

"He's really good at hiding it, then," Feyre replied, smiling back. It was true. That Rhys was protective of her… well, she had no idea. Tamlin, on the other hand, made it no secret. She shuddered thinking about him.

"He's a really good person, beneath all the layers of personality he hides in," Mor said. "Rhysand would do anything for his country. Even sell his reputation."

"I think… I think he's my friend," Feyre put tentatively.

"I think so, too," Mor replied, patting Feyre on the back. "Listen to me. I think Rhys has been meaning to tell you, but I'm not sure he knows how. Rhys and Tamlin… they know each other. Hate each other."

What. This changed everything. Rhys. Tamlin. Rhys.

Two separate halves of her life. Colliding. Crashing. Destroying her.

Feyre stood up abruptly, glaring at Mor. "He didn't tell me _that_."

Mor looked… almost frightened. Carefully, she said, "I'm sure he would have, but he didn't want to bring up Tamlin without you bringing him up first. Plus, he has a bit of a tough past with him."

"I've heard enough," Feyre said brusquely. "I need to talk to Rhys."

"No - wait," Mor pleaded, grabbing her arm. "Just… one word."

"Okay," Feyre replied. "Fine. Just give me your stupid word and I'll be gone."

Hurt flashed in Mor's eyes. "If… Rhys meets Tamlin, he may act… different. It's the mask he puts on… to protect his republic. Don't… let it influence your opinion of him."

"My opinion of him couldn't get any lower," Feyre replied, stalking out of the room.

* * *

 **Rhys**

He had seen anger, hurt, sadness, in her eyes.

But nothing compared to this. This… this was a cold fury. Rhys slowly backed away from her, holding his hands up in surrender.

"Why did you not tell me you knew Tamlin." Feyre shot a withering glare at Rhys, whose slowly shriveled up.

No. Not this. Anything but this.

Rhys slumped down, beginning to shake his head. No. He didn't want to think about Tamlin… his mother, his sister, and his father. But… if he didn't tell her, he would deserve her fury. Hell, he already did.

"It isn't… something I talk about," he choked out, waving a dismissive hand.

Feyre, being Feyre, refused to be dismissed so easily. Gods above, she was lowering herself, sitting down next to him. What was she doing? Wasn't she mad at him? He still gave her a grateful smile.

"You're… healing, too," Feyre stated. Asked. "Healing from a past. Just like me."

He nodded, burying his head into his hands. And when Feyre gently took his head in her arms, he didn't resist, instead leaning onto her shoulder.

"You helped me," Feyre said. "If you ever need to talk, I will be here."

Nodding again, Rhys wondered what he had ever done to deserve this woman in his life. She was so strong… kind… and god, she was _beautiful._ So beautiful.

"Do you need a moment, or are you ready to go?" she queried gently.

Rhys took a deep breath, then straightened his spine. "I'm ready to go, Feyre," he said.

* * *

 **Feyre**

And that was that.

He was healing, she was healing… he had helped her, so she would help him.

Feyre didn't want to pry too much into his past with Tamlin… but, goodness, how many lives had Tamlin ruined? Her, Rhys…

"Huh," she thought. "I guess I really am over Tamlin." It was true. Instead of feeling any sort of lingering love and guilt with Tamlin… now, she just felt anger. For treating her the way he did. And for ruining Rhys' life, in whatever way he had.

 _No one_ got away with ruining Rhys' life like that. Not without her to pass through. If Rhys got to be protective of her, she could be protective of him. She could tear apart anyone who hurt him, feel jealous of anyone who loved him…

Well, maybe not that particular protective instinct. Why would she feel jealous anyway? It wasn't like she loved him or anything…

"Anyway," she said out loud, shoving all awkward thoughts aside, "we should really stop dawdling. Are we ready to go?"

Behind her, five voices responded.

"Ready," said Amren, with surprising enthusiasm.

"Ready," chirped Mor, catching Feyre's eye and smiling.

"Ready," said Cassian, flexing his biceps, and causing the entire room to burst out into laughter.

"Ready," said Azriel with unusual solemnity.

She looked Rhys in the eyes last. "Ready," Rhys replied, staring back into her eyes. His face was serious, but there was an unmistakable smirk written into his eyes. Good. He was back to his old self.

"I'm ready," Feyre said. "Let's go get my sisters."

* * *

 **Hi! I really hoped you liked it! It felt so good to be writing this story again. I will definitely continue this story on into ACOWAR, but not the actual war part of it; I'm not so sure if I can AU that. New characters like Kallias and Viviane, and the rest of the high lords will make appearances, as well as new/emerging ships like Nessian, Elriel, and AmrenxVarian.**

 **Also, I've been noticing that people are following/favoriting my story, but not reviewing. If you liked it, please please please review! It really encourages me as a writer, and there's a much higher chance I'll update sooner. Thank you for everything so far! See you next time, and stay beautiful! :)**


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: All characters belong to the wonderful Sarah J. Maas.**

* * *

 **Cassian**

Cassian really, _really_ missed real comfort.

He supposed it wasn't all that bad. After all, they weren't foraging for berries and roots in a forest. They were just… downgrading a bit, to be more inconspicuous. But Cassian was used to good-quality food. And apparently _good quality_ was not in Mister Ever-So-Knowledgeable Incognito Rhys' vocabulary right now.

"Welcome to Vasara," he heard Rhys telling Feyre.

"We're almost there!" added Mor.

Cassian turned his gaze to Amren, waiting to see her reaction. She displayed one of her rare smiles, until she caught him staring and went back to death glaring at him. He laughed, satisfied. It was rare that one caught Amren off guard.

He turned back to Feyre, who was frowning.

"So we've been to Iméra, Alba, Elurra, and now Vasara… what haven't I seen?" she asked.

"We've been to everything worth seeing," Rhys said, laughing. Cassian frowned. What about Fýlla?

Feyre, apparently, was also not satisfied with Rhys' answer. "But what else is there to see?" she persisted.

Rhys sighed. Sensing annoyance in his friend, Cassian stepped forward.

"Rhys has given this speech far too many times for his own good," Cassian told Feyre. "I'll tell you this time."

Taking a deep lungful of air, Cassian started. "You have seen Chlorida, Asteria, Iméra, Alba, Elurra, and Vasara, yes?" Feyre nodded.

"Good," he continued. "So, for convenience's sake, I'm going to call all of them kingdoms, even though we _really_ have a medley of kingdoms and empires and republics. Of the seven major kingdoms, there is only one you haven't seen yet, and that is Fýlla. Trust me, you don't want to go there." Cassian's insides squirmed at the thought. Quickly, he turned his gaze in the opposite direction of Mor.

"The seven of us are a sort of… alliance. We never get along, we never see eye to eye on anything, but we are an alliance all the same. Why we are an alliance beats me, so just ask Rhys about that. He'll give you the idealistic speech."

Feyre frowned and turned to Cassian. "You are allied with Tamlin."

Cassian shrugged helplessly. "I told you, ask Rhys about it! I'm a war guy, I don't know the first thing about politics."

"That's not true," Rhys said, punching Cassian's shoulder. Teasingly, Cass punched him back.

"Are there any other kingdoms?" Feyre asked.

Oh no. Yes, there were other kingdoms, but Cassian did not want to think about them at the moment. There was also the small matter of them being confidential, but that paled in comparison to the fact that these _other kingdoms_ daunted _him_. Him, Cassian.

Thankfully, Amren stepped in for him. "Yes, there is a rather large and dangerous one out west. It is called Hybern, and we honestly do not know what to do about it. In addition to its military size, Hybern is known to be unscrupulous and sadistic." She paused, then continued. "Actually, Hybern is the reason for our visit here in Vasara."

"One of the reasons," Cassian snickered, and Mor let out a peal of laughter. He had long suspected that Amren harbored a secret crush on Tarquin's cousin Varian, though the very idea of Amren with a crush twisted his brain into knots.

"Are we visiting Tarquin before Nesta and Elain?" Feyre asked, tilting her head up.

"Who are Nesta and Elain?" Cassian frowned.

"Her sisters," Rhys answered.

"You'll like them," Feyre added. "Everyone likes Elain. Nesta is a bit… well, different, but if anyone can get under that icy mask she always wears, it would be one of you." She looked at Cassian as she said this.

He shrugged. He had never thought of himself as a _people_ kind of person. Sure, he could flirt like nobody's business. But getting people to actually care was a whole different story.

"Oh, don't deny it, Cass," Mor said. "It's going to be you. Feyre has too much history with her, Rhys is enraptured with Feyre, Amren doesn't have enough people skills to fill a thimble, and Azriel is just too quiet."

"I am _not_ enraptured with Feyre!" Rhys said indignantly, causing everybody but Feyre to burst out laughing.

"What about you, Mor?" Cassian asked.

"Me?" She snorted. "Cassian, my friend, you need to slow down. This _Nesta_ sounds to me like an introvert. Maybe she hides her feelings. In any case, I'm too much for her. I'm too charming, beautiful, awesome…"

"Modesty really is not your strong suit," Rhys remarked.

Cassian glared. "You're insinuating that _you_ are too much, but not me?"

"Cass, you're intense. And kickass. Coupled with your flirting, there's no way she won't fall for you."

"Whoa there," Feyre said. "Nobody is going to make my sisters fall for them. Nobody is going to meet my sisters with romantic intentions, either. We're just trying to make them feel comfortable with us. After all, five of us are, in their terms, royalty."

Cassian let out a breath. "Chill out, Mor. I'm not going to ask Feyre's sister out, no matter how hot she is." He turned to Feyre and winked. "Which she must be, considering how hot Feyre is."

A flicker of emotion passed on Rhys' face, but was gone as soon as it came. "Come," Rhys said. "We'd best get to Tarquin's palace. And maybe spruce up along the way."

"For sure," Mor added.

* * *

 **Feyre**

The palace was yet again different.

Tamlin's palace had just been… powerful, while Rhys' palace had been mystical and homely. Tarquin's palace… well, it just seemed alive. Alive, exuding warmth from its every surface.

Feyre reached out for the nearest hand, which happened to be Rhys', and took hold of it. He squeezed back and she smiled.

The door opened, and a tall, dark man smiled at all of them. He looked for the longest at Amren, whose steely glare betrayed nothing.

"Varian," he said.

Behind him, a similarly tall and dark woman emerged from the shadows, and floated out to greet them. His sister, Feyre supposed.

"Cresseida," she said. "Please make yourselves at home in Vasara. What's ours is yours."

"Thank you," Rhys said, taking Cresseida's hand and planting a kiss. Feyre glared at him. Rhys could just be so infuriating. "Amren, Feyre and I will be ready to speak with Tarquin tomorrow."

"And what of your other lords and ladies here?" she inquired, blushing a little bit.

Mor stepped forward. "We're elected officials, thank you very much. And we're going to be attending to other problems." She gave a small curtsy, and Feyre put a hand to her mouth to keep from laughing.

"Feyre," Varian said. "Aren't you Emperor Tamlin's runaway bride?"

"Feyre can be whatever she chooses to be," Rhys said, squeezing Feyre's hand. Feyre shot him a grateful smile. She really did not want to think about Tamlin, especially not since they were so close to Chlorida now.

"Well, rest assured, we are not going to meddle with Tamlin and his love life," Varian said. "While you are here, you are safe."

"Thank you," Feyre breathed, curtsying as well. She wasn't sure, but it seemed polite.

"No need," Amren told Feyre, not taking her gaze off of Varian. Holy shit, was she trying to stare him to death or something?

"Come upstairs," Cresseida said, looking hard at Rhys.

"Much obliged, my lady," Rhys said, dropping into a mocking bow that made Feyre's insides churn.

Mor, sensing her discomfort, hung back as they all started to walk upstairs.

"If it makes you feel any better, Rhys flirts with everyone," she told Feyre. "But you're the only one he talks about day and night. Honestly, it's a little tiresome for the rest of us to always hear 'Feyre this' and 'Feyre that.'" She smiled.

"No, that does not make me feel any better," Feyre didn't know whether to laugh or scream. Typical Mor. "I don't like Rhys in that way. I don't even _know_ Rhys."

* * *

 **Mor**

Mor could sense the unsaid words behind Feyre's laughing outburst.

"I don't even _know_ Rhys."

But she had known Tamlin.

And Tamlin had hated Rhys.

And even though her relationship with Tamlin was in pieces, even though she was slowly forging a friendship with Rhys, she couldn't help but wonder who was the monster: Tamlin, or Rhys.

Or both.

"You should talk to Rhys," Mor said finally. "I'm sure he'll open up. For you."

"What's the point? He's too busy flirting with stupid Cresseida," Feyre hissed back.

"Yet he defended _you_ in front of Varian," Mor replied smoothly.

Feyre's eyes widened. After gaping for a few moments, she finally said, "What does it matter to me? Sure, he was being nice. But I'm telling you, I really don't know him. We're friends, but only in the loosest definition."

"Then get to know him," Mor said simply.

After a few moments, she added, "He's worth knowing."

"I guess," Feyre grumbled.

* * *

 **Feyre**

"Here are your rooms." Varian's voice cut through the murky haze that was Feyre's mind.

"This is the guest wing. The staircase is right down there." Varian pointed to the left and continued. "Amren, your room is this one." He pointed to the room nearest to the staircase and winked at Amren, who did not wink back.

"Feyre and Rhys, you can take these two." He gestured to two of the larger rooms. "Cassian, Azriel, Morrigan, these are for you." He waved his hand at the smaller rooms.

"If you need anything, Cresseida and I are over on the right wing. You can call on us." Varian looked at Amren, who returned no emotion.

"Please do. I hope you find your stay enjoyable and comfortable." Cresseida smiled at Rhys as she said this, and Rhys smiled back. Feyre glared at Rhys. How dare he?

Mor cast a warning look at Feyre, and she took a steadying breath. Mustn't let her emotions carry her away, she thought. No, best to stick to the world of reason. She didn't know Rhys. He was just a kind face in her life. That was all.

And yet, as she went to bed, Feyre couldn't help letting her imagination run away with her. And a small part of her wished that Rhys would look at her, Feyre, the way he looked at Cresseida when he was acting so infatuated with her. Just one time.

"It's stupid," she said aloud as she undressed for bed. "Who knows what he might have done. For all I know, he could be a mass murderer by night. Rhys is nothing but a friend who's been kind to me, who also happens to be extremely hot." She snorted. "Anyone would think so."

"No," she said one last time, tucking herself in, "I am definitely not falling in love with Rhys."

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Hi guys! So, what do you think? I felt like everyone was a bit OOC in this chapter. Suggestions?**

 **I am trying not to rush Feyre and Rhys' relationship, so if this feels a bit rushed, don't worry. They're going to backtrack, they're going to go on a roller coaster ride before finally ending up together. Please do let me know if you have any suggestions for them, though.**

 **Questions? Comments? Suggestions? Criticism? Please review! I read each and every one of them, and I will try to reply to you next chapter.**

 **Also, please let me know if you want to know how I came up with the names of my kingdoms. If there's interest, I'll give you some information next chapter.**

 **That's all for today, stay beautiful!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed!**

 **rowaelinfeyrhys: I'm glad you liked that scene. There's more coming for those two. :)**

 **FHeronBeingLaazy: Thank you! Yeah, I know I'm not the best at writing these characters, or writing in general, but I try, and I hope it's better in this chapter!**

 **parietheplatypus: Haha yeah! :) I added more drama in this chapter, enjoy. :)**

* * *

 **Feyre**

Feyre was awoken to Mor's chipper tones.

"FeyFey?"

Feyre groaned. "Please never call me that again, Mor. And how the hell did you get into my room?"

"You didn't lock the door." Blearily, Feyre opened an eye to find Mor standing above her grinning wickedly. Sighing, Feyre blinked both of her eyes open.

"So how are you feeling today, Feyre?" Mor asked.

"Tired," Feyre scowled. "No thanks to you."

"Oh, come on, sleepyhead. It's eight in the morning. Just get your ass out of bed."

"I would, but I'm not in clothes," Feyre grimaced.

Mor laughed. "I should bring Rhys in here right now."

"Oh, believe me, he's been in this situation already," Feyre said.

Mor gasped. "He's seen you…" she waved her hands around, "you know?"

"Nope, but he's gotten as close as you are now," Feyre sighed. "What do you want with me, Morrigan?"

"Please never call me that," Mor said. "And I want two things. Firstly, Amren told me to tell you to get ready. She seems to be under the impression that if I tell you, you're more likely to do it than if she tells you."

"Highly improbable," Feyre replied briskly, staring Mor down. "And the second reason?"

"I want to know," she winked, "how your little bout of lovesick jealousy is going."

Feyre's jaw dropped. She facepalmed. "I am not, and never was, going through any _bout of lovesick jealousy_. I was just a little put off at Rhys' shameless flirting, that's all. And I'll have you know, my dear," she looked Mor in the eyes, "I'm through with that."

She laughed. "If you're put off at _Rhys_ , wait until you see Cassian. He is going to have some time in the city today."

Feyre's brow furrowed. "What are you doing in the city?"

"Nothing important," Mor shrugged. "That was all just a cover. This mission is for you, Rhys, and Amren. Cassian, Azriel, and I are not needed, so we're going to be chilling in the city today." She smiled. "I can get you a souvenir, if you like."

"No, thanks," Feyre allowed a smile to slip onto her face. "I'm going to get dressed now." She gestured for Mor to leave.

"Your wish is my command," Mor winked, then turned around and exited the room.

* * *

 **Rhys**

"So here's the deal," Rhys explained to Feyre. "We are going to be having a meeting over deeply confidential matters. Can you be trusted?"

"Well, yeah," she stammered, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, "but why are you taking me then?"

"Feyre," he said, looking her in the eyes, "your situation is very unusual. Tarquin may be interested, he might warm up to you. And besides," he smiled, "I trust you." He looked at her hopefully.

Feyre grinned back. "Okay, great. Tell me everything."

"Okay." He took a deep breath. "Do you remember Hybern?"

"Yeah?" Feyre tilted her head. "What do they have to do with anything?"

"Well, we think Hybern is trying to conquer our kingdoms. All seven of them. In one shot. And we have no idea what to do about it."

Solemnly, Feyre nodded. He couldn't tell what was going on in her head, behind those beautiful eyes. She looked beautiful today, he had to admit. Even dressed in a simple purple blouse and black pants, she looked beautiful.

Shaking these thoughts aside, he continued. "There is… a weapon Hybern has. A… big and powerful bomb. He has it right now, and with it, he has the power to win the war. So us seven kingdoms, and republics, and empires, need to do something about it."

"Wait." Feyre held up a hand. "What's a bomb?"

Rhys frowned. "You don't know what a bomb is?"

"I have no clue," Feyre admitted. "Weapons in Chlorida were cannons and swords and crossbows…"

"You should be glad Cassian isn't here, he would tease you endlessly," Rhys laughed. "Basically, here's the gist of it. A bomb is an explosive. It explodes. There's science behind it, too. The bomb in question is an _atomic_ bomb, one of the most powerful types."

"Ah," Feyre smiled. "Explosives? One would think Asterians, with all their advanced ideas and technology, would be less crude."

"Honestly, I agree," Rhys laughed breathlessly. She was amazing, really, when you got to know her.

"Anyway, an atomic bomb is next to impossible to disarm safely," Rhys continued. "Long ago, our ancestors pulled sticks to decide who would safeguard the instructions for disarming one."

"Long ago?" Feyre raised her eyebrows. "They had this bomb long ago?"

"Oh, well, by long ago I mean a couple generations ago. My grandparents or great-grandparents or something like that." He shrugged. "I read about it in a library."

"Wow, so well-read," Feyre teased. Rhys looked down. Feyre thought she was a bastard, he recalled, thanks to Cassian. He had never bothered to correct that impression. He looked up again. Feyre was still smiling. He smiled back. She looked great.

"As you probably have guessed by now, Tarquin has one half of the instructions."

Feyre frowned. "Only one half?"

"Yeah, this was one of the smarter moves of our ancestors. They decided one person should not be entrusted with the instructions entirely, lest they choose to ally with the wrong person."

"Who has the other half then?"

"You're not going to like this," Rhys grimaced. Feyre's eyes widened with understanding.

Before he could say anything more, the door opened. Amren stood there, waiting.

"Are you two done making love?" she asked. "We need to go."

"I bet Cassian dared her to say that," Rhys grumbled. "Come on, Feyre, we should get going."

* * *

 **Feyre**

The Vasaran meeting hall was, well, everything Feyre had expected from it. Bright and welcoming, the hall was spacious and the table could have easily seated countless more.

"For all the kingdom leaders," Rhys had explained, and Feyre had nodded.

Now the six of them were clustered at the head of the table. Tarquin had taken the head seat. Amren, Feyre, and Rhys sat to one side of him, while Cresseida and Varian sat on the other side. Somehow, Amren had ended up seated across from Varian. Feyre wondered if it was a coincidence. Probably not.

"Welcome to Vasara, President Rhys. How are you enjoying your stay so far?" Tarquin said in a formal tone.

"Charming," Rhys replied, shaking Tarquin's hand.

"And who do you have here with you?"

"This is Amren, our Secretary of the Treasury," Rhys said, gesturing toward Amren. "And this is Feyre."

Feyre swallowed as Tarquin's imperious eyes took her in, examining her from top to bottom and certainly not missing a detail.

"Feyre," Tarquin mused. "Could you be… Tamlin's runaway wife?"

Rhys opened his mouth, but Feyre held out a hand. She would speak for herself.

"Yes," she said nervously. "It - it wasn't working for me."

"Hmm." Tarquin nodded. "Fair enough. Rest assured, you are safe here."

"Thank you," Feyre smiled. "It's a pleasure to be here with you." She took a breath. She was not going back to Tamlin. She was safe.

"So what brings your delegation here today?" Tarquin asked.

"Hybern," Rhys said grimly. "We think he has the atomic bomb."

Tarquin gasped. "Rhysand, that is a very serious accusation to make. Do you have any proof?"

Amren nodded. "Azriel, our Director of Covert Operations, has confirmed this. Unfortunately, we have no way of proving it to you."

"We need the instructions," Rhys said.

Tarquin gasped again. Varian and Cresseida just blinked.

"Those instructions have been hidden for decades. Centuries, even. We are not going to dredge them up when we have no proof." Tarquin slammed the table.

"Tarquin, please," Rhysand pleaded. "Those instructions could be our one chance at stopping the war."

"Please, Tarquin." Feyre's voice surprised everyone, including herself. "Tarquin, I was born in one of the poorest villages in Chlorida. I know what it is like to live ration to ration, always afraid of starving. But Tarquin, miserable as it is, it is a _life_. If you bring war onto the seven kingdoms, so many people won't even have that. And the rest… everyone who fights in the war, well, I have killed defenseless people, too, Tarquin. Let me tell you, it is worse than being killed yourself. The guilt will eat you up alive." She was pleading now, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Please. Help stop a war."

She looked at Rhysand, her face stained with tears. He took her hand and smiled. Well done, he mouthed.

Tarquin looked Feyre in the eyes. "Feyre, I really am sorry. Please believe me when I say I am sorry. But I can't just hand you the instructions right now, with no proof. We would have to have a meeting with all seven provinces to decide. I am sorry, Feyre, but I will have to deny your request." Varian and Cresseida nodded.

Feyre shrugged, shoving all her anger down. "Thank you for your consideration," she gave a diplomatic nod.

"You're most welcome," Tarquin replied. "Varian, Cresseida, please escort our guests to their room. You can leave at sunrise."

"Thank you," Rhys shook Tarquin's hand.

"Thank you," Tarquin replied.

* * *

 **Feyre**

"I can't believe him!" Feyre spluttered. "How dare he turn us down?"

"This is the world of politics, Feyre," Rhys gave her a sympathetic look. "It's never sunshine and rainbows. He made a fair decision. Nevertheless, I am displeased with it. So we should do something about it."

"Like what?" Feyre glared at him. He was not supposed to be like other politicians. He was better, she knew it.

"We'll steal them," Rhys said simply. "I'll contact the others. We have six hours to do it. I think we can pull it off."

What.

Feyre gaped at him. How could he even consider doing such a thing? She had thought he was good, that his republic was pure and good in every way. Well, she had been wrong.

"Oh, I don't know about _we,_ Rhysand. I thought you were better than him. But this? Rhys, this is wrong, plain and simple. There has to be another way." She started to walk out of his room.

"Wait," Rhys called. "Feyre. Wait."

"Fine," Feyre spat. "One chance."

"It's like you said, Feyre. War is coming to us, and if we don't do something about it, we are all dead. Or worse. Feyre, this is our only chance to stop the war. We need to do it. We can't let Tarquin stand in our way." Rhys set his jaw.

Feyre frowned. He was right. The war was bigger than all of this. That didn't make her feel any less uncomfortable, but…

"Okay," she said. "Okay. But I am not going to help you out." She stood up and started to slowly walk back. "I'm sure you can do it on your own. And I don't think there's anything I can contribute to this… _heist_." She shuddered.

"Fine," Rhys said mildly, raising an eyebrow. "I'm pretty sure Azriel can do it on his own."

"Great," Feyre said coldly. "See you tomorrow." She stalked out of the room without another word.

* * *

 **Hi readers! So what did you think? I definitely had fun writing this chapter. I'm sorry to leave you on a kind of cliffhanger...but there's more coming.**

 **I hope you like the alternate universe! I'm really not the best at world-building, but I did my best... :)**

 **Questions? Comments? Suggestions? Please review! It encourages me a lot, and I will definitely listen to what you have to say.**

 **That's all for today, stay beautiful!**


	12. Update

**I am sorry this is not a chapter. But I have an announcement to make.**

 **This story isn't working for me anymore. The plot has gone somewhere that I do not like, and frankly, writing it seems more like a chore than a pleasure. I am going to be very busy soon, so I am putting this story on temporary/permanent hiatus. Maybe I'll come back to this, but honestly I cannot tell you if I will or not.**

 **I haven't moved on from the fandom, though. Keep an eye out for one-shots and possibly chaptered stories that I will be writing.**

 **Again, I am sorry to disappoint you all like this.**

 **Thank you for your patience, and stay beautiful.**

 **-wavingthroughawindow**


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